


something about the way you bleed

by bracelitperson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Fluff, HE/THEY CASTIEL SUPREMACY, I Did it For Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, against the monster not each other, cas is like season 15 cas, he’s not at full power sorry, i described the scenery in this one ya’ll, im getting better at multi pronoun writing, influenced by twitter, the angst is very mild me promise !!!, the case is like barely there ignore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracelitperson/pseuds/bracelitperson
Summary: Dean and Cas go on a hunting trip to take down a shapeshifter and after a close call Dean realizes he should do something about the fact that he’s in love with his best friend.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	something about the way you bleed

Dean shuts the engine off, the Led Zeppelin song playing cutting off halfway through a guitar solo. Cas smiles at him from the passenger seat and hops out of the car. 

Dean lets out a small sigh. 

They’re on a case in Oklahoma tracking down a shapeshifter that’s been doing the usual murder, steal identity routine. 

He knows there’s nothing weird about going on a solo hunt with Cas, they do it a lot, but it feels weird anyway, like something bad is going to happen. Dean hates that feeling more than he hates airplanes.

Cas opens the door for him and he feels his face heat up like a middle schooler with a crush. He steps out and gives Cas a small smile. The angel smiles back and shuts the door gently before walking towards the police station. 

Dean watches him walk away. He wasn’t wearing the trench coat, which almost made Dean die when he saw. They were in their usual black suit, blue tie straight against their buttoned-up shirt.

Cas looks back at Dean, giving the hunter a head tilt. Dean snaps out of it and catches up. 

“Dean, are you alright?” Dean looks up and watches the sunlight shine warmly in Cas’ baby blues. 

“Yeah, just... a lot on my mind,” Cas gives him a look but he lets it go and opens the door for him again. He only gets a little flustered this time. 

— —

They get all the information they can from the local PD and go to a local motel in the middle of town. The red and blue neon sign is illuminated against the sunset as they pull into the parking lot.

They climb out of Baby, waking to the small office connected to the rest of the building. It’s bare except for a small desk and a girl with green hair. She’s chewing gum softly, a book in her hand and her legs propped on top of the desk. She looks up and puts her legs down quickly.

“Hi! Welcome to the Compass Motel. How can I help you?” Dean’s kind of taken aback by how polite she is. A teenager working at 8 o’clock and she’s weirdly cheery. He gives her a genuine smile. 

“One room, please.” She looks down at the monitor on the desk, types something. 

“Single or twin?” 

“Single.”

“Twin.” 

They both say it at the same time. 

Dean feels his face get heated again. The girl looks up, a silt eyebrow slightly raised. Cas gives him an equally confused look and Dean feels like he can barely breathe. 

_ It’s no big deal, Winchester! It’s just a bed! _

“Which one do you want?” 

She says it super soft like she’s talking to a wounded animal. Dean doesn’t blame her. 

“The Single, uh, is fine.” He chokes it out and she types something else on the computer, handing over a hotel key. 

“Have a good night. I’m Max if you need anything.” He nods his thanks and leaves as quick as he can, popping the Impala’s trunk. 

Cas follows behind him, looking as calm as ever. He pauses as he grabs the bags, looking up at the angel.

He’s silhouetted against the goddamn sunset, a halo of light rounding his black hair, looking like an... angel. Dean internally rolls his eyes. 

“Cas,” He whispers harshly like this is some kind of super-secret. 

Cas gives him one of those genuine listening faces that Dean feels  only Cas can make. He almost loses his train of thought.

“Cas, you can't just say things like that in front of people...” 

He looks up at Cas’ forehead instead of their eyes so he can focus. 

“People might think we’re, uh, dating.”

“Why are we whispering?” Dean rolls his eyes externally. He grabs the duffel bags and gently shoves Cas’ bag into the angel’s arms. 

“Just... don’t do that again, okay?” 

Cas raises his eyebrow. Dean might be crazy, but Cas looks a little annoyed. 

“Okay, Dean, I’m sorry. Don’t we have a case to focus on?” He definitely isn’t crazy and now his face is lighting up like a road flare. 

Stupid angel. 

Dean wasn’t even sure someone could blush this much, let alone him. He follows Cas to their room, makes a gruff manly noise in acknowledgment. Dean swears he sees Cas roll their eyes as they unlock the door. 

— —

They finally track down the shapeshifter by traffic cameras near one of the more recent murders in town, following it to an abandoned factory near the edge of town. Very cliche, even for them. 

They had gotten the police to back off with their fake FBI badges, so it was just them driving to the building. The old factory looked like it had been abandoned for several years, the brick gray and crusting along the edges. 

The grass, what was left of it, was all dead and the transformer poles surrounding it were rotting from the core. 

Dean parked the car a little ways from the building, the feeling of something awful still in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t wanna take any chances, especially with Baby. He pops the trunk, takes out his usual gun and loads it with silver bullets. Cas clutches his angel blade.

They walk towards the building, the sky gray and cloudy and dark, something straight out an Edgar Allen Poe novel. Dean’s not a fan of the mood it sets. Cas takes the lead into the building, walks around into the garage door like opening on the other side. 

They walk in and immediately are flooded by the smell of dead bodies, the musk awful and all too familiar. 

“Damn,” Dean curses as he goes to cover his nose with his jacket sleeve. Cas seems less affected. The angel keeps the lead, following a trail of blood to more open space. 

Dean assumes it’s where all the machinery used to be kept. It’s bordered with rails and small stairs on every other side. In the middle of the space are broken down tables and scattered bits of human bodies scattered across the floor. 

There isn’t one full body, only parts in various places. A leg here, an arm there. The stench is horrible and Dean almost it gags. Cas looks over at him, something full of sympathy and a little horror. Dean pats his arm and walks up the small set of stairs, waiting on Cas to follow into the other part of the factory. 

They walk into another big room, this time the old machinery is all still in place, broken behind repair. Dean can barely scope out the room from how full it is. The smell is a little more bearable, but he can still see blood smeared in several places. 

Cas brushes past him to investigates the bloody walls. Dean ignores the butterflies in his stomach from Cas’ arm brushing his. It’s not important right now. 

He loosens his gun stance and walks over to what looks like an old sewing machine. He tries to ignore the pieces of shredded skin set on the surface of it. He looks over at a broken-down wooden table next to the machine.

Its original brown is stained dark red with dried blood. Sitting on top of the table is a deck of cards in a used red box, a lighter, some kind of weird hunting knife, and a bag of AirHeads. Dean scoffs at the bag of candy. 

He listens to Cas shuffle around, hoping they’ll find their way over to him soon. The feeling in his stomach isn’t going away.

“Dean!” 

_ Shit. Shit. _

He feels his stomach drop and he rushes over to the place where he left Cas. He feels his breath catch as sees the shapeshifter against Cas, a hunting knife like the one he saw on the table to his throat.

Dean follows Cas’ eyes to his angel blade, halfway across the floor. It’s donning the latest victim, a short, curly-haired 20-year-old. 

Dean feels disgust and horror curl in his stomach, feels it scrape against his esophagus. The thing fucking smirks.

“Hello, Dean.” He scowls. 

“Let go of them.” The thing makes a sort of laugh sound, short and terrible. 

“Now why would I do that?” Dean picks up his pistol, aims it straight at the shifter’s head. 

“Cause’ I have a gun full of silver bullets and a lot of untapped rage. Let. Go. Of. Him.” 

The thing makes a face like it’s considering. Dean knows it’s just mocking him, but he couldn’t care less. Cas looks at him, something full of emotion. He will _not_ let this thing hurt Cas.

Dean doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots. There’s a sound of pain as the bullet grazes the thing’s shoulder.

_ Fuck_ . 

Dean watches as it cuts Cas’ collarbone and shoves them to the ground. 

“Cas!” The shifter holds its shoulder in its hand as it goes down to stab the angel again, this time in the stomach. He hears it meet his angel’s flesh, hears Cas scream in pain. He feels his vision go red. 

“You fucking son of a bitch!” He kicks the thing as hard as he can away from Cas, watches with satisfaction as it slams against the concrete wall. He looks over to Cas urgently, grabs their hand and places it over the wound.

He presses it down and Cas lets out a hiss of pain. Dean gets up, making sure he’s okay before going over to the shifter. He stops. 

The thing shifted to Cas. Same bright blue eyes, same pretty face. It smiles with blood around its mouth, twisting Cas’ face into something evil and unnatural. 

“Like the new skin? Make it just for you,” 

He grinds his teeth together as the voice comes out rough and smooth like Cas’. He feels dread filling inside him like a massive title wave, feels it crash against his chest. The thing stands shakily, Cas’ hand braced against the wall.

Dean brings the gun up and goes to fire, but the thing tackles him. He grunts as he hits the floor, the shifter knocking the wind out of him.

Cas- The shifter punches him in the face, his knuckles smashing against Dean’s cheekbone. Dean’s fantasized about those hands. 

He ignores the feeling of  _ wrong wrong wrong  _ in his gut and shoves the thing off, straddles it to the ground. He knees it in the stomach as he settles on top of it, smashing the butt of his gun against its face. The thing groans and Dean falters  as he hears it use Cas’ voice. 

That’s all it needs to grab the upper hand and they’re flipped again, the shifter shoving an elbow into Dean’s nose. He hears the bone crack. He barely feels it as the thing shoves his gun away, clattering it halfway across the room. 

Dean curses, wrestling the thing’s arms off him. It shoves an arm against his throat, choking him with an smile that looks absolutely horrifying on Cas’ face. 

He looks to his side just so he doesn’t have to look at that thing and spots the angel blade within an arms reach. 

_ Thank whoever the fuck’s listening.  _

He reaches out unsteadily and grabs the handle, bringing it up and stabbing the thing directly in the abdomen. It screams loudly, it’s retinas flashing from warm familiar blue to repulsive gray.

Dean ignores the wash of emotions as he sees the light go out of Cas’ clone’s eyes. Dean shoves the thing off, ripping the angel blade out. Blood flows down onto his shirt and stains it, but he barely feels it as he crawls over to Cas.

“Cas? Cas!” He gently slaps their face, waking them up. Cas’ eyes are glazed as he blinks them open, a small smile on his lips. 

“You kill it?” 

Dean barely registers the question as he helps Cas put pressure on the wound. 

“What? Yeah, Angel, I killed it. Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

He helps Cas sit up, a loud groan coming from both of them. Cas places a hand softly on Dean’s bloody face. Dean flinches a little. 

_ Oh, shit, my nose.  _

He lets Cas touch it, the bone sticking out to the side unnaturally. Dean sees the blue grace flash from their hands before he feels it. 

His nose pushes back into place slowly, the blood running from it coming to a stop. He huffs annoyingly and spits blood off to the side. 

“Cas! You got stabbed! Why the hell would you heal me first?” 

He pushes the angel’s hand to his stomach, watches as he heals the stab wound closed. Cas looks up at him tenderly and dazed. 

“You always come first, Dean.” 

Then the angel passes out, falling against Dean’s chest. Dean sits there stunned, his hand wrapping around Cas’ head to hold him. He feels himself breathe in relief, smiling softly against their hair. 

He stands up slowly and picks them up bridal style with a moan of effort. Cas’ head falls against his shoulder and Dean carries him all the way to the Impala, his whole body aching.

Dean places them in the backseat as gently as he can. He fires up the car, the engine roaring to life. Dean sighs, gulping in air. He glances back at the injured angel and turns back to the road, laying his head against the steering wheel.

He takes a minute and breathes, ignoring his pounding head. He grabs his phone from his pocket. It’s shattered in the corner, but Dean ignores that as he calls the local PD to clean up the mess. 

— —

Dean picks Cas back up when they pull into the motel, the neon glow from the sign the only light in the parking lot. Cas mumbles against his crumbled suit jacket and Dean mumbles right back, too tired to make a real response. 

The girl from the front desk, Dean can’t remember her name right now, walks past and notices them. She doesn’t ask any questions about the blood or their disheveled state, just walks over and holds her hand out for the key, a book in the crook of her arm. He grudgingly hands the key to her and lets her unlock it. 

“Thanks,” She hums in response and shuts the door behind them. 

He sets Cas as gentle on the bed as he can and goes to get the first aid kit and some towels. When he comes back, Cas is awake. 

“Dean,” He says sleepy and slow, reaching his hand out to Dean. Dean hardly refrains from melting all over the motel carpet. 

“Cas, hey man,” 

He rushes over and places the stuff on the bed, sitting up next to them. Cas blinks and grabs Dean’s arm for support as he sits up. 

“Dean, are we-?” He clutches Dean’s arm tight. 

“Back at the motel, yeah.” He looks up suddenly and glances over Dean. 

“Where are you hurt? Here, let me-“ 

He goes to place his hand against Dean’s chest, but Dean grabs his wrist. 

“Hey, woah, woah, I’m not the one that got stabbed twice. Heal yourself first.” 

Dean ignores the memory of what Cas muttered earlier, the conviction of which he said it like it was a simple, known fact.

_ You always come first, Dean. _

He moves Cas’ hand to the cut in their collarbone and watches as Cas shuts the wound closed. His shirt is still bloody and ripped, skin coated in dry and wet blood, but Dean figures they’ll deal with that later. 

He doesn’t argue when Cas places his hand on Dean’s neck, making goosebumps rise along his layered arm. Dean feels his bruises heal, feels his fractured rib aline correctly. He lets out a quiet sigh and Cas falls back against the bed, exhausted.

Dean falls with him in concern, panicking at Cas’ closed eyes. Cas grabs his hand and snuggles against his side, places the hunter’s hand where his stab wound was. Dean lets out a sigh of relief as he feels the hand clutch his. 

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean barely breathes as he pulls Cas closer, their legs intertwining. 

“Goodnight, Angel.”

— — 

When Dean wakes up in the morning, it’s with a headache. He blinks his eyes open against the faded light coming from the shaded window.

He feels warm, even though he has no blanket. He feels Cas shift softly along his side, their clothes still sticky with dried blood. Right. He attempts to push Cas off so he can go change or shower, something to get the stench of rotting corpse off him. 

Cas just pulls him closer. Dean rolls his eyes fondly and unsticks Cas from his arm, a dissatisfied groan coming from his friend. 

“Deannn,” 

Cas drawls out the N, real whiny. Dean chuckles lowly, rubbing Cas’ arm before grabbing his bag. 

“I know, but I gotta shower. I smell like a graveyard.”

Cas grumbles against the sheets and Dean shuts the door behind him. He turns the shower on and strips, figures he’ll have to burn that suit. He doesn’t really want the reminder anyway. 

He steps under the scolding water, the pressure decent for a motel. He scrubs the dirt and blood from his body, watches it circles red and black down the drain. He never got to process all the happened last night. 

Him and Cas tracked a shifter, check. 

Cas got hurt by the shifter, check. 

Dean remembers feeling red hot angry flair through him like a bomb, remembers slamming the thing against the wall loudly. He remembers the thing shifting to Cas and that’s about where he lost it. He doesn’t wanna think about having to kill- even if it was a clone. 

So he doesn’t. He also doesn’t think about how they sleep next to each other holding hands or about what Cas said half delirious at the factory. He doesn’t.

He steps out and puts on sweatpants and an old t-shirt, wiping his hair dry as he does. 

Cas is sitting on the bed, peeling his clothes off. Dean stops and stares as Cas takes his shirt off, his trail of thought leaving along with his dignity. 

“Can you toss me my bag?” 

Dean nods, doesn’t trust his voice to sound even remotely close to normal. He throws the bag and he swears he sees a glimpse of a smirk on the angel’s face. 

“Dean?” 

Dean snaps from his revere of pining. 

“Yeah, yes, what?” 

He stutters out and he can definitely see the ghost of a smirk on Cas’ face. 

“Can I borrow a shirt? I didn’t pack an extra.” 

Dean’s gonna have an aneurysm. 

He nods and throws Cas his AC/DC t-shirt. He sits on the bed as the bathroom door closes, listens to the shower start to run as he falls back dramatically against the bouncy mattress. 

He closes his eyes. It’s just Cas, his best friend, his buddy, his pal- oh, who is he kidding? That’s Cas, his angel, the love of his life. 

Maybe he won’t stop getting flustered or hot and bothered when Cas so much as shows the barest amount of skin, but he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t love him more than he should. It’s not his fault he fell in love with the angel. Well, maybe. But who wouldn’t? 

Cas has said way more romantic things to him then what he said last night, but something about that made him snap.  It’s about goddamn time Dean did something.

He shakes out of his thoughts as Cas walks out, his borrowed AC/DC shirt a little tight on their chest and sweatpants hanging low on their hips. Cas’ black hair is wet and dripping down his cheek. He looks so... domestic. 

Dean smiles, something gummy and uncontrollable. Cas notices as they place their dirty clothes in their duffel bag. 

“Dean?” 

Dean hums, waves Cas over with his hand. Cas complies, bewildered, and stands awkwardly at Dean’s bedside, not sure what he wants. 

“Dean-!” He grabs Cas’ arm and pulls him onto his lap, the angel’s hips straddling him against the 2nd rate mattress. 

“Hi,” He feels victory as he sees Cas’ face flush. 

“Hello, Dean. What are you-“ 

Dean shushes him and sits up so he can pull him into a tight hug. Cas makes a sound of surprise but hugs back, his eyelashes fluttering against Dean’s face as he closes his eyes. They pull back after a second and Cas looks confused and euphoric at the same time. 

“Dean... are you alright?” 

Dean chuckles, smooth as obsidian. 

“Yeah, Cas. I’m perfect.” He places a hand on the angel’s cheek, testing the waters, pulling his face the little bit forward.

Their lips hover over each other’s, brief like Egyptian rain, eyes wide full of the weight and anticipation of the moment. Then they meet in the middle, lips connected into the longest awaited kiss in history.

It’s soft and sweet and absolutely ground breaking, which the hunter finds funny considering him and Cas have both seen the the ground break during several apocalypses. Dean ignores the cliche of it all.

_I’m in love, who can blame me?_

They pull back after a while, a little breathless. Cas smiles, something wide and insidious. They don’t say anything. Dean feels they don’t really need too.

They rest up for the rest of the day, snuggled in the ugly motel comforters and each other. They leave later that night, hand in hand. Dean ignores the blush burning his face as he packs up the Impala.

Max, he remembers her name now, smiles from the office and waves. Dean waves back as he shuts the trunk. 

They climb into the car in sync, the cassette playing Metallica a little too loudly. Dean turns it down and drives off, getting Cas to text Sam and Jack that they’re on their way home. 

“Dean?” Dean hums in response. 

“Would you like to stop and get dinner?” Dean grins like a goddamn fool. 

“What, like a date?” 

“Yeah, exactly like a date.” Cas grabs Dean’s hand from the steering wheel, intertwines their fingers and rests their hands against the leather seats.

“Sure. Also, um, Cas,” Cas looks over, waiting patiently. 

“You always come first for me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> this took like 3 hours and i’m very proud of it i think !! yummy 2 prompts in one. i took one prompt from @cottagecorecas on twitter and another one was meme so !! hope you enjoyed as usual leave a comment or a kudos they mean the world


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